


I wonder if you know?

by Chronicler



Category: One Direction (Band), zayn malik - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabble, M/M, POV First Person, Unrequited Love, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronicler/pseuds/Chronicler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble set after Zayn left One Direction. Liam calls Zayn before a concert. They fail to connect with each other. Angst and longing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wonder if you know?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this quickly tonight instead of sleeping. My first attempt at writing first person POV. Any feedback would be gratefully received.
> 
> Thank you Shannon for beta reading.
> 
> Title and quote from Empty Chairs by Don Mclean: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybQcTeFpRU

_ _

_x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x_

_And I wonder if you know_  
_That I never understood_  
_That although you said you'd go_  
_Until you did, I never thought you would_

_x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x_

Smile. I must remember to smile. Even if it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I wonder if anyone notices when it doesn’t? I doubt it. I am, after all, Liam Payne, people-pleaser extraordinaire, more commodity than person now. But am I waving or drowning? Hard to say. I guess they look the same.

We're backstage, before the concert, meeting the few people allowed near us now. Children who have rich parents, or are sick with real problems. Not a meaningless problem like mine. Not just the empty space where a beautiful sudden-stranger should be.

They’re so happy to meet us, then they leave, taking their joy with them. But they seem satisfied with my fake smile.

Everyone left behind wanders away, scattering into groups and chatting. But I don’t feel like small talk. I never do anymore.

And they all let me go. Louis and Harry off whispering together, Niall talking to some pretty assistant. They leave me be. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or angry. I’m not sure of much anymore.

It’s suffocating in here, the heat choking me. I wander outside, the fresh air might help. Fuck, who am I kidding, I don’t need fresh air, I need a cigarette.

I can hear fans in the distance, behind gates and fences. Always so loud. But we’re the ones penned in. The exhibits in the zoo. But I’m hidden away for now, leaning back against a rough brick wall just out of view. In the secluded recess that contains the heavy, battered door I wasn’t meant to open. I ignore the industrial view, the concrete and tarmac of the small, private car park, filled with our massive tour buses. I feel like I’m wagging off school, avoiding my responsibilities for a few stolen minutes. Not even my bodyguard watching me for once. I’m not trusted to be on my own anymore in case I do something stupid. Or something brave.

I take a first drag on my cigarette, but it never calms me the way I hope it will. While I smoke I scroll through the messages on my phone; there are always so many, so many people who want a piece of me. Slicing off their pound of flesh till there’s nothing left.

The world stops dead, the noise in the distance fading away, the cigarette almost burning my fingers: a text from Zayn. You never text me anymore, never call. My world quiet and colourless in your absence.

‘ _Call me!! x_ ’, is all it says.

Is that a kiss, or just a slip of your finger? Don’t we pretend now that we never kissed? Didn’t we always pretend that? When we sobered and the sun rose, blotting out the shadows we could hide in together.

I flick grey ash onto the grey concrete. I shouldn’t call. I should be stronger. But I’m not. I miss talking to you. Not that I ever seem to stop. You just don’t usually answer anymore.

“Hey babe,” you say when the call finally connects, a smile in your voice. But don’t call me that. Don’t call me that unless you mean it. At least I must still be in your phone, my name, my picture, a memory of me.

“Hi… how’s London?” I ask, like I care, like London ever changes. Like it matters what random country I’m in now either. I miss you, is all I can think. I miss you.

“It’s good, real good. Been laying down some sick tunes with Shahid, you should come hear them sometime, yeah?” There's excitement in your voice. I should be happy for you. I should be. But I'm not. I want your attention on me, but I can't hold onto it anymore, it slips away like my smile.

I don’t want to fucking hear the music you make with other people. “Yeah, if I’ve got time. You know how it is, we’re always so busy…”

“Yeah, I know…” I hear the scratch and flare of your lighter as you light a cigarette too. You must have gone outside to talk to me. Not wanting someone to hear. I picture the look of bliss you always had, and I always envied, at that first hit of peace before you blow out the smoke. I can almost feel it against my skin.

I let silence envelop us. Do you know how much this hurts? Do you? We never had awkward silences before. The words that aren't said say more than those that are. I feel you pulling away from me even more in your brief presence than in your absence.

“How’s everyone?” you ask. Like you couldn’t guess.

Not good. “Good.”

“That’s good. I tried calling Louis but he didn’t answer. He can be a twat, but…”

“Well, to be fair –" Louis misses you too much to pretend he isn’t angry that you’re gone. Are you asking me to lie? “Never mind. You know how it is, we’re just busy…”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Silence filling up the empty spaces. Pouring through the cracks as they spread. As we fall apart. As I fall apart. And you just walk away. Sometimes I see a shadow, a movement out of the corner of my eye, and I think I see your back as you turn to leave.

“We should get together when you get back. Me and Perrie, and you can bring–”

“ _Okay,_ yeah. I’ll call you.” I shouldn't interrupt you, shouldn't silence you, but I don’t want to hear it. You don’t mean it, and it’d be worse if you did. I’m sick of pretending to smile.

“Good. But like, we’ll have to go somewhere quiet, I’m not meant to be seen with you, just like, for now, till all the bullshit settles and people get used to it.”

When the fuck will I get used to it? I never really thought you’d leave, I almost say. I take a shaky drag on my cigarette instead. Try not to think about how you tasted. The whisper of smoke on your dry lips. I never thought you'd leave. Never thought you’d leave the band. Never thought you’d leave _me_.

“Everything’s okay, yeah? You’re quiet, it's not like you…”

“Course,” I say, blowing out a mouthful of smoke with the word, both bitter on my tongue. I never thought you’d leave, I still don’t say. I thought we’d have more time. Thought we’d work it out together. Thought I knew how much you loved me. But I knew fuck all. “I’m just tired.” I am so fucking tired.

“Take care of yourself,” you say like I’m an acquaintance. “Listen, I gotta go, I'm holding stuff up. Don’t forget to call, okay?"

“I won’t.”

“Won’t forget or won’t call?” Your laugh sounds as fake as my smile looks.

“I won’t forget.” I won’t call, but I won’t forget. When I get drunk enough, I hold my phone and almost call. Almost. But what is there left to say?

"Good, don't."

"Don't forget, or don't call?"

"Smart-arse," you say, but your brief laugh sounds real this time. I picture the way your nose must be crinkling, your tongue pushed against the back of your teeth. How young and carefree you must look.

But I let the moment pass. Feel you slipping away again. Too many words to ever be spoken fill the silence and drown in it.

On the other end of the line I can hear your new life, muffled, distant, the creak of a door maybe, voices.

“I really gotta go,” you say to me absently, pushing back the silence. But I can tell you're focussed on someone else now, someone who’s waiting for you. Someone you’d rather be with. Someone easier maybe. Or more exciting. More talented. More like you. More something. “Okay, just a sec –” I hear you mouth to them, a breath whispered away from your phone that I wasn’t meant to hear. “Bye Liam, we'll hang soon, catch up,” you say, louder, meant for me at least. You do know how to say goodbye then? I wasn’t sure. You're in such a rush to get away you don't even drag my name out the way you used to, emphasizing every syllable, enjoying the feel of it in your mouth. Now it's just another word.

“Bye Zay–” the line goes dead before I even finish and the word dies on my tongue. Fitting.

Silence. I close my eye and just breathe. I will have to get used to the silence, even among the screaming.

“Liam? What the fuck you doing out here? We gotta get ready for the show,” Louis says, sticking his head out of the doorway, bringing me crashing back to our new reality. I’m surprised he came to find me himself. I feel everyone drifting away now we have no anchor. We'll probably all go our separate ways soon. Be just another memory.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I call to the door that’s falling shut as he ducks back inside. Stubbing out my cigarette on the wall, I let it fall to the ground. I look at my phone before I shove it back into my pocket. I wonder when you’ll call again. If you’ll call. I wonder what the fuck I’ll say. You’re inked onto my skin and I feel it down to my bones. There’s no way to dig you out of my flesh.

I hurry inside, back to the world’s expectations, trying to find my manufactured smile as I go. But the unspoken words lurking behind it are even louder than the silence: I never thought you’d leave, Zayn. But you did.

**_ The end _ **


End file.
